


Distracting

by Esselle



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (swiftly followed by purposeful voyeurism), Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Fluff and Humor, Hinata is thirsty, M/M, Yoga
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 16:42:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13908087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esselle/pseuds/Esselle
Summary: 'Neighbor-kun's name was Kageyama.He finally had a name. He was way hotter up close than he had been from one apartment over. His voice was rough and husky, and he was very tall, and he smelled amazing. And he had been, unbelievably, watching Hinatabackall this time.And he was a total dick. If he thought Hinata was going to be the first one to admit defeat, he had another thing coming.Fortunately, Hinata had a plan.'--Hinata's next-door neighbor is a problem and a half, and Hinata intends to deal with him accordingly.





	Distracting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mysecretfanmoments](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mysecretfanmoments/gifts).



> Several months ago, Val deviously linked me to this tiny yet adorable [ neighbors/yoga!Hinata AU](http://mysecretfanmoments.tumblr.com/post/134189501387/im-not-sure-if-you-do-requests-or-not-but-if-you#notes) she had written, and it instantly consumed me. Fortunately, she was totally on board with the idea of me continuing it, and finally, here we are~
> 
> Happy birthday, my lovely, wonderful, silly friend <3333 may you be blessed by Toto, and the hewwos forever rain down upon you

It just wasn't a wise idea, in this day and age, to go stomping about in the almost-nude with your bedroom window curtains thrown wide open.

This was what Hinata wanted to tell his next door neighbor. Perhaps in a more innocent time, on the higher floors of the twin apartment complexes they occupied, it would have been perfectly safe; but now in the age of technology, anybody could be watching, with one of those fancy cameras with the telephoto lenses. Somebody could be seeing right into the room and taking all sorts of scandalous pictures to be uploaded onto the internet for money or blackmail or something of the sort.

And Hinata _would_ tell Neighbor-kun, it definitely was his duty to do so, both as a good neighbor and a helpful citizen. The only problem—unfortunately—was that doing so would reveal that Hinata's bedroom was positioned directly across the way, and he himself was absolutely the number one culprit of the voyeuristic ogling, every time he noticed the man living and existing and in general just being overwhelmingly attractive.

"You've gotta be kidding me," he mumbled, as Neighbor-kun crossed the room, fresh from a shower if his wet, towel-tousled hair was anything to go by. His normal hair managed to be both boring and yet somehow cute, shiny jet black, with severe dark bangs that bisected his forehead. Now, though, the unintentional styling was dangerous—fluffed and piecey and sticking up a bit in places, messy in a careless way that made Neighbor-kun's face even more handsome than it had any right to be. The kind of messy that begged to be made even worse, with fingers running through it playfully, tugging at it insistently, tangling in it blissfully.

Hinata covered his face with his hands in self-inflicted embarrassment, before peeking through his fingers. The hair wasn't even the worst part.

The worst part was Neighbor-kun crossing the room wearing nothing but a towel, draped low on his hips, meaning there was a lot of his body on display—too much, some people might say, Hinata included among their number. Because Neighbor-kun's body was nothing short of sinfully _distracting_ when it was bare, and wet on his shoulders and back from his hair, and defined and well-muscled in all the right places. Which was to say, _everywhere._

Was it even possible to have a body like that and just be some regular guy, some college kid living across the way from Hinata in his regular apartment? Signs pointed to: probably, and Hinata needed to find his chill before he did something stupid, like get caught staring, or worse, trying to talk to the guy.

Hinata desperately tried to convince himself that he was pouring over his homework for class, an illusion that was quickly dashed by how dramatically he nearly fell out of his chair when Neighbor-kun undid the towel from around his waist with absolutely zero notice or warning and flung it onto his bed.

Hinata shrieked softly and spun his chair around so he was no longer playing the part of a filthy spy. That was intruding too much, he thought, even though he had long since crossed that moral line. There was something of an impression in his mind even now, of perfectly taut, smooth skin, and a pleasing, firm _roundness—_

He shook his head, horrified at himself. He refused to defile Neighbor-kun in his imagination any further. He needed to do something to get his mind off it.

His go-to whenever he was feeling overstimulated or pent up was a pretty typical one. Given his history of often being told he was too excitable for his own good (and occasionally, the sanity of those around him), he had become a pretty steady yoga practitioner for the past few years. Even just fifteen minutes in the morning helped his focus levels throughout the day, and it was a pretty easy form of exercise to fall back on if he started getting restless. No equipment or space needed, especially with his small stature. He was good at it, too, and he liked being good at things. He had always been flexible, but just _how_ flexible became clear when they had shifted him up to the intermediate classes after his first session. Now he attended the advanced class on weekends.

His mat was in the living room so Hinata scooted out of his bedroom in his yoga pants, yawning. It was probably good that he unwound and headed to bed early, he thought, as he bent at the waist, legs spread, hands against the wall. He sighed at the slow stretch this pulled his body into, before bending down to press his palms flat on the floor, and then dropping all the way to the ground. He stretched out his arms as far as he could in front of him, chest pressed to the floor, his back curved up in a steep arch that popped his butt straight up into the air, and held the pose. His body loosened in little increments and pops, and he groaned in satisfaction. This had been a good idea. He was calm, now, he was zen. He was no longer thinking of attractive neighbors or sharp hipbones or toned asses.

A knock on his door startled him out of his meditative state. He never got visitors at this hour, especially not unannounced. He stood and shook out his body before hurrying to answer the door.

"Coming, coming!" he called. "Sorry, I wasn't expecting… anyone…" His voice died in his throat.

Standing on the other side of the open door, glaring down at Hinata from the vantage point his considerable height gave him, was Neighbor-kun. In the flesh.

Hinata stumbled backwards, stunned. "He-hello?"

"First breakfast, now dinner," the man said. His voice was deep, deeper even than Hinata had imagined (not that he'd imagined it… _that_ much…). His eyes, up close, were a hypnotizing shade of blue.

"Huh?" Hinata burbled.

"What's your _problem?"_ Neighbor-kun barked at him.

Hinata panicked, instantly. "I don't know!" he yelped. "I'm sorry! I shouldn't have done it, you're right!"

"Do you know when I eat?" was the man's next question.

 _What?_ Hinata thought, baffled. "N-no?"

"At first, you only did it in the mornings," the man said. "But now—now, I was just trying to enjoy my pork curry, and I looked over and—there you are again! Twice in one day now? Come on!"

He seemed absolutely incensed. His chest, below his tight white t-shirt, heaved with the intensity of his breathing. This, too, was very distracting—the fabric stretched snugly across his broad frame. The shape and fullness of his pecs, and the outline of his nipples, was clearly visible through the shirt. It was so mesmerizing, in fact, that it took Hinata a moment to realize that what he'd just said hadn't made sense.

"Wait," he said, "what are you talking about? Twice… in one day? I haven't—"

"Just… stop." The man ran a hand down his face slowly. He appeared to be trying to collect himself. "I came over here. To ask you. To stop." His voice had gone halted and strained, and Hinata gulped. The man must have seen him watching.

"It wasn't… intentional…"

"I know, and I don't—" the man said, gesturing vaguely, "I don't really _care,_ I don't—what you do in the privacy of your own home is—the point is, just close your curtains, or _something,_ or else I can't—I just end up watch—" He cut off, looking frustrated, although it didn't appear to be entirely directed at Hinata.

"I'm… sorry," Hinata said, "but _what_ are you actually talking about?"

"This!" the man exclaimed, gesturing a hand at Hinata up and down, rather wildly. "The stretching! The… contortions!"

Hinata stared at him. "Are you talking about—my yoga exercises?"

"Yes!" Neighbor-kun said, much louder than was probably strictly necessary. "Yes, that is exactly what I'm talking about!"

"Wh-what's wrong with them?!" Hinata asked.

"They're— _indecent!"_ Neighbor-kun snapped.

Hinata's mouth fell open. "Ex...cuse me?"

"You _aren't_ excused," the man said. "For weeks, I've been forced to watch, while you just— _present_ yourself, while I'm trying to eat my rice—"

 _"Presenting_ myself—"

"But I have to draw the line somewhere and—yeah, this is it. _Not_ in front of my pork curry!"

"Wait a minute," Hinata interjected loudly, _"wait_ a _minute!_ What about the nonsense _you_ do?"

His handsome neighbor looked affronted. "I don't do any nonsense!"

"Oh, yes you do," Hinata said, feeling his own irritation mounting. Who was this jerk, to act like he was the problem, when he was so clearly innocent? "Strutting around your room, putting on a show—"

"A show!"

"Nearly in the _nude!"_ Hinata stabbed a finger at him accusingly. "Who's the indecent one _now,_ Neighbor-kun?"

"My name is Kageyama," Neighbor-kun said, "and you're still indecent. I do not strut—"

"You _strut."_

"And the bathroom's too small for me to change in, I always bump my elbows, so I've got to do it in my room!"

"Well, I need to find my center in the mornings!" Hinata retorted. "So if it bothers you so much, maybe you should just—close your curtains!"

"You close _your_ curtains!" Kageyama shouted. "Why should I have to do anything?"

"Why should _I?"_ Hinata said. "If you don't want to see me anymore, you know what to do about it!"

"Yeah?" Kageyama said, stepping over the threshold of the door, inside of Hinata's apartment, and right into his personal space. Hinata squeaked—part of him wanted to put up his fists, and challenge Kageyama right then and there. But another part of him couldn't stop noticing the crisp scent of Kageyama right after his shower, the blue eyes he'd never been able to see right until now, the body heat rolling off him in aggressive waves. "We'll see about that."

Before Hinata could argue any further, he stepped back outside, yanking the door closed behind him. Hinata stared at it, speechless, before turning around to lean against it, staring up at his ceiling.

Neighbor-kun's name was Kageyama.

He finally had a name. He was way hotter up close than he had been from one apartment over. His voice was rough and husky, and he was _very_ tall, and he smelled amazing. And he had been, unbelievably, watching Hinata _back_ all this time.

And he was a total dick. If he thought Hinata was going to be the first one to admit defeat, he had another thing coming.

Fortunately, Hinata had a plan.

*

As it turned out, the word "quit" seemed to have never entered Kageyama's vocabulary, either.

Bright and early the next morning, Hinata ventured out to his living room, to see the curtains drawn in Kageyama's apartment. He was a bit surprised by this; Kageyama had seemed full of conviction the night before. But, Hinata realized, he couldn't really expect some stranger to want to bear witness to him and his "contortions" at all hours of the day. Especially not Kageyama.

And so (with a not unnoticeable twinge of disappointment), he got his breakfast ready, ate and washed his dishes, and then took up his usual spot on his yoga mat.

The curtains in Kageyama's windows suddenly blasted apart. Hinata snapped his head up to look, startled. His gaze was returned by another, dark and intense enough to send shivers up and down his spine—Kageyama stood at the window, arms still spread wide with the motion of ripping the curtains open. The pose seemed to say _do your worst._

Hinata smiled grimly. He knew just how to proceed.

Kageyama had accused him of being indecent before, but Hinata's morning stretches were, in general, very simple. The more advanced poses, however… He started off slow like usual, some simple poses that were good for meditation. When he peeked an eye open, it was to see that Kageyama was still staring at him, unabashedly. He had even brought his rice and egg along, and was contentedly chewing as he watched Hinata exercise.

Hinata couldn't believe he had never noticed him before. Now that he knew, it was like he could feel Kageyama's eyes warming his body wherever they looked. It wasn't a bad feeling. But, perhaps because of the heat, it made him feel thirsty, made him want to work his way under Kageyama's skin.

In one smooth motion, he picked up his leg, extending it and unfolding at the knee, until it was raised all the way above his head in a daring standing split. His yoga pants, already snug on him, now felt a bit tight across his rear end… exactly as planned. Next, he bent at the waist as he often did, folding his body in half, and grabbed the ankle of the foot still planted firmly on the ground as his head hung low.

From his upside down vantage point, he could see Kageyama still watching, his chopsticks gripped tightly in his hand. His jaw appeared to be working hard. Hinata wiggled his toes at him.

Kageyama slammed his bowl down on the counter before storming out of the room. _That was too easy,_ Hinata thought, but then Kageyama returned—with a screwdriver clenched in his fist. Hinata straightened to watch him, curious at first as Kageyama reached up to do something with the curtains; it turned to incredulity, as he began to fully remove the drapes from his window outright.

Hinata scrambled to his own window, lifting the latch to open it. He stuck his head out. "What are you doing?!"

Kageyama didn't answer, not until he had finished the frenzied de-curtaining of his kitchen window. When he was done, he opened it to match Hinata, leaning outside. He jabbed his screwdriver in Hinata's direction. "Making it so you've got to close your blinds first!"

"Isn't the whole point of this that you don't want to see me anymore?" Hinata called.

"No!" Kageyama said. "The point is that you're a dumbass!"

He slammed his window shut to punctuate his words. Hinata sputtered, outraged. Clearly, the issue was far from resolved. Things were just getting started.

In the evening, Hinata came home from class, dumped his bag on his desk, and collapsed onto his bed. His brain was fried from not one, but two tests; a hot shower and watching sports videos in bed sounded like a solid choice for the evening.

The light clicking on in the apartment across the way drew his attention instead. He raised his head from his pillows, in time to see Kageyama, as usual, _strutting,_ around his room. Hinata had to admit to himself that strutting was not quite the word for it—that word implied stiffness, a severe kind of rigidity. Kageyama did seem to have kind of a stick up his ass, it was true, but that wasn't how he walked.

He moved like liquid sex. That was really the only way Hinata could define it, as he sat up slowly, mouth going dry as he watched Kageyama strip off his t-shirt slowly, fabric dragging over those all too familiar abs, yanking it over his head carelessly. And then— _crap,_ his jeans were next, shoved down his thighs before dropping the rest of the way off so he could kick them to the side. And _then—_ then his underwear was following, and Hinata squeaked, as he slid them down his legs casually. Yes… that was the ass he remembered. It was firmer than it had any right to be.

He was still staring, unable to look away, when Kageyama turned and looked right at him through the window. As Hinata gaped at him, eyes wide, Kageyama's lips quirked upward in a smirk.

Shit, shit, _shit._ No way was Hinata conceding defeat to this asshole.

It was late at night, so he knew he couldn't shout out his conviction. So instead, he stormed to his desk, yanking out a piece of paper and a marker, while Kageyama looked on with a certain level of disinterested nudity. After a moment, Hinata slammed his newly scrawled message, letters bold and black, against his own window for Kageyama to read it.

**YOU THINK THAT'S ENOUGH TO SCARE ME?**

Kageyama blinked, and then mouthed: _dumbass._

 _"No, you,"_ Hinata hissed, stabbing his finger against his window. "You're the dumbass!"

He spun on his heel, not willing to give Kageyama and his gorgeous, naked body the satisfaction of realizing exactly how much they'd gotten to him. It was his move next, and he could think up the next phase of the plan while he took a very, very cold shower.

For several weeks, the escalation continued. Hinata twisted and writhed his body into every configuration he could think of; eventually, he took a page right out of Kageyama's book and started playing even dirtier, stripping down to the most form-fitting boxer briefs he owned as he exercised in the mornings. His embarrassment was generally overruled by the expressions he managed to catch on Kageyama's face every time they made eye contact; throat working as Kageyama swallowed, tongue running over his lips to wet them or teeth biting right into them, leaving indents Hinata could see even from one apartment over, marks that he wanted to taste.

In retaliation, Kageyama got his own workout routine involved in the mix. Unsurprisingly, Kageyama's professional athlete build didn't come from nowhere. He worked out every day, and now Hinata got to have front row seats to the routine: the pull-ups and bunched shoulders and rippling back muscles; the sit-ups with the crunched, glistening abs; the weightlifting and bulging biceps and straining pecs.

Hinata's method of conveying his feelings through marker and paper became a trademark of their encounters. Instead of angry challenges, he began to communicate via scoring system. The first time Kageyama showed off his ability to do one handed push-ups, one arm tucked behind his back, sweat coursing over his body, was both a near-death and near-religious experience for Hinata. Once he collected himself enough, he opened his notebook, making a big show of pondering his message, before drawing the tall black numbers across the page. Expressionlessly, he held it up to the window.

**6/10**

Kageyama's eyes nearly fell out of his head. _SIX?_ Hinata could see him mouthing furiously. It had become a running theme that Hinata always scored him pathetically low whenever he tried to show off, and if Kageyama thought that was going to change just because he looked like a delicious fucking snack, he was incredibly wrong. Hinata scratched his chin before dashing out a new message:

**Maybe a low 7**

Kageyama's mouth fell open in indignation. Quickly, Hinata hopped out of his desk, waving farewell with a cheerful "Goodnight!" he knew Kageyama couldn't hear, but would definitely be able to see. He clicked off his light and scurried into bed, burrowing down into it and giggling into his pillow the same way he had over his first crush when he was a kid.

He rolled onto his back and sighed up at the ceiling. That was what this was, wasn't it? He had a large and very stupid crush, on a large and very stupid boy next door. Try as he might, he couldn't stop his mouth from crinkling upward. It was nice, this big, stupid crush. Now—if only he knew what to do about it.

The answer presented itself several days later, unexpectedly outside of their normal routine. After a last minute class cancellation, Hinata found himself home earlier than usual. Passing by the window in his living room, he noticed a flurry of activity in the next apartment over, and paused to look.

It was Kageyama bustling about his kitchen, cooking dinner. This wasn't something Hinata normally got to see, and he couldn't help the pang of fondness he felt at the way Kageyama was when he had no idea he was being watched. It was different, now, than it had been when Hinata had been trying and failing _not_ to watch him. It had become pretty clear that Kageyama was fine with it, encouraged it, even, for the sake of the weird rivalry they had going with each other; but right now he wasn't trying to one up Hinata or gloat or anything like that.

Alone in his kitchen, frowning and mixing ingredients and watching the stove, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, he was just… cute. It made Hinata wonder what Kageyama thought about everything—what Kageyama thought about _him._ Annoying and a dumbass seemed to be constants, but beyond that… did he think about their stupid encounters throughout the day and laugh about them, like Hinata did? Did he look forward to them?

Did he maybe like Hinata more than he let on, too?

Kageyama chose, at that moment, to look over from tending to his dinner, right at the window. His eyes met Hinata's, and he quirked an eyebrow as he realized he was being watched. Rather than shy away at being caught red-handed, Hinata grinned at him, and waved.

With a roll of his eyes, Kageyama went back to cooking, although his mannerism started to shift. Unless Hinata's eyes were deceiving him, his cooking methods suddenly began to take on what seemed like unnecessary dramatic flair—flipping his egg in the frying pan higher than was probably advisable, sprinkling a dash of plain kitchen salt very precisely into the pot on the stove. Hinata hid his grin behind his hand, as a familiar, fluttery feeling started to tumble over in his chest.

Kageyama enthusiastically added a dash of some kind of nearby liquor to one of the pans he had going, before using a kitchen lighter to ignite the fancy concoction. Things went completely awry.  

A jet of flame shot up out of the pan. Kageyama's demeanor snapped from suave chef to panicked disaster instantly. He bellowed at the flames before grabbing a nearby dish towel and swatting at them in an attempt to extinguish them. The dish towel caught fire immediately.

Hinata threw open his window. "Put the lid on it!" he yelled, ancient advice from his mother resurfacing in his mind. "The lid!"

He wasn't sure if Kageyama had heard him or not, but to Hinata's relief, it was the next thing he tried. He slammed the lid of the pan on top of the flames, swallowing them up, before yanking his hand away from the heat. After several long moments of trepidation, he wrapped the charred dish towel around his hand and lifted up the pot lid. Mercifully, the flames had gone out.

Sheepishly, he turned to look at Hinata. Hinata crooked a finger at him, beckoning him closer, and Kageyama crossed to the window and slid it open.

"You distracted me," he said crossly.

"That was incredible," Hinata said, "ten out of ten."

"Shut the fuck up," Kageyama told him, although he looked like he was fighting back a laugh.

"Listen, kitchen destroyer," Hinata said, trying to sound as smooth as possible, "maybe you should just come over here and let me make you dinner, since you're obviously terrible at it?"

"Bite me," Kageyama said. And then, before Hinata could feel too disappointed: "Give me five minutes to clean all this up. You better be a great fucking cook."

"I am _excellent!"_ Hinata vowed. He was average at best, but Kageyama didn't need to know that until after he was trapped at Hinata's dinner table. Also, oh my _god,_ Kageyama just agreed to come over for dinner.

The doorbell rang before Hinata could finish rushing around tidying things up, and trying to buy himself a few more seconds earned him a banging at the door, next. Kageyama's knock still sounded loud and angry, and Hinata hurried over to snatch open the door, still feeling an inexplicable fight or flight response.

"Took you long enough," he accused Kageyama.

Kageyama stepped inside, kicked the door shut with the heel of his foot, and grabbed Hinata by the shoulders. "Yeah," he agreed, before leaning down to kiss him.

This was not at all in the way of what Hinata had been expecting. He melted into it, all the same.

Kageyama felt as solid as he always looked, was as warm as Hinata had hoped he'd be, smelled a bit like a grease fire now, and that was just fine. He wrapped his arms around Kageyama's neck, coaxing Kageyama's mouth open with his lips and tongue and a helpless moan, that Kageyama seemed to surrender to instantly. Big hands pressed insistently at the small of his back, tugging him impossibly closer, neither of them willing to admit that they needed to breathe until they couldn't help it, breaking apart to gasp for air.

"That's for being so fucking distracting," Kageyama growled at him, and Hinata laughed triumphantly.

"You're just as bad," he informed Kageyama. He ran his hands down over Kageyama's arms, biting his lip as he felt all that muscle, fingers tracing over the veins of his forearms. Yes, this was all very good.

"I was just living my life before you came along," Kageyama said. "Hey, by the way. What's your name?"

Hinata drew back. He blinked. "It's Hinata."

"Hinata…" Kageyama murmured. "You never told me. I've just been calling you Neighbor-san in my head this whole time."

"You have got to be kidding me."

"Nice to meet you," Kageyama said.

Hinata thudded his forehead against Kageyama's chest and sighed happily. Kageyama, and this crush, were definitely large and stupid.

But Hinata had no intention of letting go of either of them any time soon.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> [I'm [@esselley](http://esselley.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr, [@Esselle_hq](https://twitter.com/Esselle_hq) on Twitter]


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